


smiles

by krystallisert



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: also it's based purely on my shitty headcanons, but i DID try, but i'll tell you what, i think it's gender neutral but i'm too tired to double check, i'm pretty shit at tags, so it's like the definition of self indulgent, this is so fluffy i want to choke myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:05:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7493163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krystallisert/pseuds/krystallisert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It begins, as so many love stories does, with a smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	smiles

**(prologue)**  
  
  
It begins, as so many love stories does, with a smile.  
  
Kageyama has always been told that he looks extra creepy when he tries to smile, so it's not something he does particularly often.  
  
(the first time you meet, though, you tell him to smile. his palms get sweaty at the thought, but he can't seem to refuse you)  
  
It's awkward and he feels uncomfortable. To your credit, you don't even flinch. there are no taunts or mocking lines on your face. You simply stare for a moment before bringing two long index fingers to the edges of his lips, drags them up in what must look like the most ridiculous smile ever.  
  
A bubbly and melodic laugh spills from your lips and a strange warmth forms in the pit of the young volleyball player's stomach.  
  
  
**act i**  
  
  
Kageyama might be sort of dense – he's always been told this by his teammates – and he might be pretty oblivious to the world beyond the court, but he knows the name of the emotion he feels in your presence. It's at once both comfortable and uncomfortable; it thrills and terrifies him.  
  
He knows what it is, but he doesn't know if he wants to say it out loud. He's stuck between wanting to hide under his blanket and scream at the top of his lungs. He just feels so un-Kageyama and it's an such a strange thought that he needs to mull it over for a while before making a move.  
  
What he finds is that he kind of likes it, this new feeling.  
  
  
**act ii**  
  
  
You're a force to be reckoned with, and Kageyama should've known better than to think he could leave you in the dark about his silly feelings.  
  
You beat him to the punch anyways. It's not quite a confession, but it's close enough, and Kageyama's never been one for really public displays of emotion. He can appreciate the hushed tones and private glances and the simpleness of it all, even if he thinks it would just be easier to pretend nothing's going on.

"I like you," you tell him plainly. Just like that.   
  
And because Kageyama is Kageyama, he takes a moment to consider the possibility of it being a joke.   
  
(it doesn't take more than an intense glare fixed directly at you to know you're being serious, he has already mapped out all the constellations of your body - every twinkle and twist there is to know about your face)  
  
"Why?" is all he's able to say.   
  
"You have a nice smile," you respond with an easy quirk of your own pink lips. Now he _does_ think you're taking the shit, and the glare turns slightly intimidating.  
  
It takes a lot of convincing to make him believe you're being serious, but when you do – oh, it's so worth it.  


   
**(intermission)**  
  
  
You're the one to initiate the first kiss, of course, because Kageyama is too uncertain, too unsure of what pace to move in. He doesn't really mind; sometimes it's nice to just go with the flow and let someone else be the shot-caller for once.  
  
But when it finally does happen, he wishes he'd done it ages ago. His head is a galaxy, he can see stars and planets behind his eyelids.  
  
The brilliant row of teeth you flash him when you pull away – unafraid despite his hesitant response to your spontaneous kiss – makes Kageyama want to paint a picture, frame it and hang it on every wall in his house. Well – he can't paint for shit, it would probably be easier to just snap a picture.  
  
But you make him think in poetic words and disgustingly sweet sentences, and he stopped fighting them a long time ago.

(he won't ever say them out loud, but he won't deny their existence either)

You totally ruin the moment by pressing at the edges of his lips with two soft thumbs, pressing them up gently. You lean your head back to take in your masterpiece and promptly break out in a wild kind of laughter that would've offended Kageyama if it was coming from anyone other than you.   
  
It's too early to say, but he thinks he might love you.  
  
  
**act iii  
**  
  
You have taken a lot of the firsts by virtue of being the confident and headstrong individual you are, but Kageyama is determined to get this one before you. He fucks it up, chokes on the syllables and feels his face heat up. He'd never tell you, but he had been practicing for days before endeavoring to spill his feelings in front of you; he had a speech prepared for fuck's sake. It's all for naught, though, because as soon as you flash him a smile, he seems to forget how to form sentences and ends up stuttering as an idiot.   
  
In hindsight he'll still count it as a win going by the redness coloring your cheeks and the smile that seems capable of splitting your head in half. You take his head in your hands, taking care to caress and treasure the hot flush of his cheeks, and laugh breathlessly as you press your forehead against his.   
  
Kageyama has never really believed in God, but the moment you declare your love for him in repeated whispered _i love you_ 's, it sounds like a prayer. His heart soars.  
  
(he's not entirely sure that he deserves you, but he decides then and there to never let you go)  
  
  
**act iv  
**  
  
Time moves painfully fast and delightfully slow in your company.  
  
He's never been one to skip practice – Kageyama's team would've sooner believed him to be the one to force them to practice an extra day a week – but here he is, comfortably dozing off in your fluffy bed when he should've been on the court. He hums in a guilty sort of thrill, delighted to be able to share this 'first' with you.  
  
Which is not to say you've asked it of him – in truth you'd done your damnest to force him to go. You don't want to be _that_ person, who makes their boyfriend skip practice and ditch his friends. You told him this with a whine and a gentle pull of his fingers, he merely rolled his eyes and pulled harder in the other direction. He needed this, he muses, listening to your hums and murmurs as you speak from his right, tucked safely in the rook of his neck.  
  
He can't help but noticing how your body feels against his (your nimble fingers toying with the hem of his shirt, heavy breath tickling the most sensitive spot on his neck); it makes him squirm and tugs at something beneath his navel. He pulls you closer and inhales you like a man seconds away from drowning.   
  
  
**act v  
**  
  
Your touch sets him on fire.  
  
(this 'first he'll grant the both of you ownership of)  
  
  
**(curtain call)**  
  
  
It ends, as so many tragedies does, with an accident.  
  
Kageyama swears he can feel it as it happens, even if he's not made aware of the crash until the following morning.  
  
He wakes with a jolt, with sweat running down his furrowed brows. He clutches at his chest, cursing his aching heart and the crushing feeling in his gut. He wants to call you, to hear your voice and silence the one in his head taunting him and pulling horrifying pictures into his head. He lays back down.  
  
Somehow, in the depths of his subconscious, he knows that something has changed. He can feel the terror in some locked away part of his brain, and distantly he thinks that his heart is broken.  
  
Which is why he doesn't cry when he gets the phone call the next morning.  
  
He's always thought “moist” were one of the most disgusting words ever; he realizes there's something even worse when he visits your still body at the hospital.  
  
Comatose.  
  
(they can't guarantee you'll ever wake up)  
  
Worse yet: memory loss.  
  
(they can't make any promises that you'll remember him)  
  
  
**(encore)**  
  
  
It's an end.  
  
(he's made you love him once, he can do it again)  
  
It's a beginning.  
  
(right?)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> When my grandfather suddenly died at the hospital after a long fight against cancer, my grandmother swore she knew it before she even got the call. She told me that she had shot up in bed, and the first thing that popped into her head was that her heart had broken. It just struck me as kind of tragically beatiful, which is what I tried to convey in the second to last part. True love and all that. Idk. 
> 
> Regardless, this is very internal and very headcannon-y, so I'm sorry if it feels out of place or character. It's purely self indulgent tbh (also prob some errors, but i always find out about them too late so)


End file.
